


Paradise

by TheAshla (cannedpeaches)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: A New Dawn - John Jackson Miller, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, UST, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2017-08-09
Packaged: 2018-12-13 10:41:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11758140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannedpeaches/pseuds/TheAshla
Summary: While undercover on the second moon of Rion, Kanan and Hera dance around their growing feelings for each other.





	Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> If you're a fan of spacemarried, you've probably heard the bit of trivia about Kanan, Hera, and the [moons of Rion](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Rion). This is my take on it.

Kanan Jarrus shaded his eyes with one hand as he emerged from the _Ghost_ , squinting against the bright sunlight. From where the ship was docked, there was a clear view of a white sand beach and, beyond it, a bright blue stretch of ocean punctuated by rolling waves.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

Hera Syndulla, the _Ghost_ ’s captain, had come to stand at his elbow, her hands on her hips as she admired the view. Her green skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, the blue of the ocean reflected in her large eyes. The corners of her mouth curved upward into a satisfied smile, but her brow was just a bit drawn, determined.

“Yeah,” Kanan said. “Beautiful.”

She looked at him, quirking an eyebrow. “Ready to do some sight-seeing?”

 

The second moon of Rion was far more picturesque than the places Fulcrum usually sent them. In his lost years, Kanan had spent endless days on any number of backwater planets and, by the time he met Hera, he figured he might have seen them all. Fulcrum had been quick to prove him wrong, much to his chagrin. Yes, the second moon of Rion, with its waving, fern-like trees, warm salt breezes, and long, sunny days was a nice change of pace. And it had its other perks, too—

“…listening to me?”

Kanan blinked, tearing his eyes away from a group of female Togrutas sunbathing farther down the beach.

“What?” Kanan said.

Hera rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. “Kanan, dear, while I realize we’re in a tropical paradise, I’m gonna need you to focus.”

“Sorry, Captain,” Kanan said, running a hand over his hair. Little pinpricks of guilt shot through his chest. _Dear_ was a new development. In the past year of traveling with Hera and slowly being drawn into her Rebellion, she’d called him a lot of things: _Kanan_ , of course, was popular, as was _You_ and sometimes its modified form, _You Idiot_ , when he did something especially reckless. But never _Dear_ —at least, not until a month ago.

The first time she’d said it, he’d been in the galley, stirring a stew he was cooking for dinner, only half paying attention when she’d stuck her head in and said, “Kanan, dear, would you and Chopper run a diagnostic on the _Phantom_ tomorrow while I go meet a contact?” He’d dropped his spoon into the stew, burned himself, and hit his head on the cabinet above the stove, all at the same time. Sometimes, he suspected that Hera kept calling him _Dear_ on the chance that she’d catch him off-guard again and earn herself some entertainment. But of course, a small but growing, highly irrational part of him wondered if there was something more to it. Just thinking about it was enough to make his fingers and toes tingle, because about a month before Hera first called him _Dear_ , he’d realized, while throwing her to the ground for about the millionth time to avoid Stormtrooper fire, that he was irrevocably, horribly, deeply in love with her.

But she didn’t know that. So it didn’t stop him from needling her from time to time.

“You _did_ say we were here to do some sight-seeing,” he said now, flashing Hera what he hoped was a roguish grin.

Hera pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing, but said nothing. Her eyes flicked back down to her datapad. Kanan casually threw his arm over the back of his chair and sat back, an excuse to study her. The silence was odd. Hera always had some smart remark on the tip of her tongue, ever-ready for any of his attempts at flirting. Silence was a brand new response, and it threw him more off-balance than anything she could have said.

Kanan cleared his throat. “Any new information from Fulcrum?” he asked, his tone now business-like.

Hera’s lekku swayed as she shook her head. “Just what we know: We meet the contact at this café, they give us the code phrase, and we discuss more then.”

“At least it’s beachside,” Kanan said, taking a sip of his brightly-colored drink. Hera had been eyeing it warily for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s virgin,” Kanan said.

Two spots of dark green appeared on Hera’s cheeks. “What?”

“My drink,” Kanan said, nodding at the glass. “There’s no alcohol in it.”

“Right,” Hera muttered. She tapped at the screen of her datapad.

Kanan smothered a laugh by taking another sip. He hadn’t had a real drink since last Empire Day, when Hera had almost punched him in the face. He’d gotten back to the _Ghost_ just shy of dawn, and Hera had been in the cargo hold, pacing, Chopper whirring at her to get some rest. Kanan shifted uncomfortably now at the bad memory.

Before he could think about that night any further and get himself into a funk, a Rodian approached their table and indicated the empty third chair.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked.

“Depends,” Kanan said, eyeing him.

The Rodian pulled the chair out anyway, but he hesitated before he sat. “It’s a long way to Alderaan,” he said, his large, starry eyes looking from Hera to Kanan and back again.

Hera’s lips curved into a smirk. “Not if you can get the right _leverage_.”

The Rodian nodded at her knowingly, then took a deep breath as he sat.

“What do you have for us?” Hera asked.

“Not much,” the Rodian said, his shoulders lifting. “The information Fulcrum requested proved more difficult to extract than we expected. But I do know how you can get it.”

“Information about what, exactly?” Hera prodded.

“We have someone who’s infiltrated the slave trading routes in this sector,” the Rodian said.

Hera’s hands, which were on the table, started to shake. It wasn’t something Kanan would have noticed a year ago, but now, he saw the slight tremor against the wood grain, and curled his own hands into fists.

“She’s undercover,” the Rodian continued. “Turns out I couldn’t get close to her without blowing her cover. And that’s part of the reason Fulcrum called you in.”

“What do you mean?” Kanan asked, his voice taking on a hard edge.

“Our agent is staying at a resort here. We need you to go in and talk to her.”

“And why is it that only we can do that?” Kanan asked. He glanced at Hera. Her jaw was tight, her eyes boring a hole into the table. “Am I supposed to act like I’m—” Kanan made a gesture at Hera, who didn’t move. He could tell she was thinking along the same lines.

“Not necessarily,” the Rodian said. He was answering Kanan but looking at Hera. “Fulcrum and I just figured she might be more willing to talk to you, because … she’s also a Twi’lek.”

Hera did look up then. Her face was paler than Kanan had ever seen it.

 

“What the _hell_ are they thinking?” Hera said, flinging her arms wide in rage. “To ask a—a _victim_ of the trade to go undercover like this? It’s insulting!”

They were walking along the beach, making their slow way to the resort the Rodian had indicated. Despite Hera’s fury, she had accepted the job. As always, her sense of duty won out, even if, at the moment, she seemed to hate herself for it.

“Maybe she’d wanted to do it,” Kanan offered.

Hera whirled on him. They stopped walking. Kanan’s bare feet sank a little in the sand. Hera was still booted.

“Do you even know what kind of scum you have to be to sell your own people?” she said. “Undercover or not, it’s almost as humiliating as being a slave yourself.”

Kanan looked into her flushed, furious face. Her narrowed eyes were wet and filled with nothing but pain. He dropped his boots and put both hands on her shoulders.

“No, Hera,” he said, his voice gentle, “I don’t know. And I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the sand.

“But I do know how much you hate this.” He swallowed, then added, “It’s maybe a small consolation, but you’re not doing this alone. I’m here with you.”

Hera looked up at him. Her face was drawn now, exhausted. She put her right hand over his. “You are,” she said. “Thank you.”

 _I’d follow you anywhere_ , he wanted to say. That was what he’d told himself on Gorse, the first time he’d ever laid eyes on the _Ghost_.

But instead, he gave her shoulder a squeeze, and they walked on in silence.

 

Half an hour later, they were walking up to the reservation desk of the largest resort on this side of the moon. The lobby was made of some kind of rough, white stone that glittered faintly in the sunlight pouring in from the glass ceiling. One entire wall was taken up by an indoor waterfall, around which large, flowering plants grew. A cooling mist unfurled itself from the spray of water.

Kanan whistled. “Think Fulcrum accepts write-offs for business expenses?” he muttered to Hera.

She elbowed him hard in the ribs, making him swear, but the corners of her mouth were twitching.

As they approached the desk, the Nautolan standing behind it greeted them with a small bow.

“How may I help you?” she asked.

“We’d like a room for one night,” Hera said.

Kanan blinked at her. _A room._ Singular.

“Oh, just one night?” the Nautolan said. “Our resort does feature the largest spa in this sector, and I can upgrade your room if you stay for at least two nights …”

“Thank you, but my husband and I having a bit of a whirlwind honeymoon, and we can only stay one night.” Hera flashed the receptionist a dazzling smile.

Kanan fairly goggled at Hera. A herd of stampeding bantha might well have been bearing down on him at that moment, and all he would have been able to see was Hera, her lekku curved up mischievously at their ends. His stomach did a number of flips.

“As you wish,” the Nautolan said, tapping at her datapad. “May I have your names, please?”

“Numa,” Hera said. “And this is—”

“Ka—Kanus,” Kanan said, still a bit dazed. “Kanus Jasmir.”

“Wonderful,” said the receptionist. She opened the desk drawer and pulled out a card, which she passed over the datapad. “Here is your key. You’re in room 421.”

As they waited for the lift, Kanan raised an eyebrow at Hera.

“What?” she asked.

“Husband?”

She shrugged, but she looked away from him. “Usually works better than ‘boyfriend’ in most parts of the galaxy.”

Kanan opened his mouth to reply, but the lift doors opened to reveal a number of sentients dressed for the beach. As he and Hera got into the now-empty lift, he muttered to her, “We’re gonna need a change of clothes.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Hera said. “I saw a shop down by the beach.”

“Want me to come with?” He crossed his arms, thinking of the slavers who were allegedly at the resort. Not that they’d kidnap Hera in broad daylight— _probably_ —but Kanan knew that in these circumstances, it was better safe than sorry.

The lift doors swooshed open, and Kanan and Hera walked a little ways down a corridor to their room.

“I’ve got it; don’t worry,” she said as she tapped the key card against the lock.

“How are you supposed to know what my size is?”

Hera remained in the doorway, but she put her hand on the small of his back and gave him a light push into the room. “I can eyeball it,” she said.

He could have sworn he saw her smirk before the door swung shut.

 

Kanan was just getting out of the fresher when Hera returned an hour later. It had been weeks since he’d been in a shower larger than the tiny stall they had on the _Ghost_ , and he’d taken his sweet time. By the time he heard the door’s locking mechanism, he had a towel wrapped around his hips and another on his head as he toweled off his long hair. When the door opened, both he and Hera froze.

“Oh!” Hera cried. “I’m sorry!” She was about to back out of the room, but Kanan crossed to her in two long strides and grabbed her wrist, pulling her in and shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t blow our cover,” he said.

Hera’s cheeks were dark green. “Right.” She cleared her throat, then handed one of the two bags she was carrying to him. “Here.”

“What’s this?” He slung his second towel around his shoulders, then pulled the swim trunks out of the bag. They were white, and patterned with— “Hera,” he said, his voice flat. “Are you serious?”

Hera’s eyes were twinkling. “Did you know meilooruns are my favorite fruit?”

“Yes,” Kanan said dryly. “I did. Didn’t mean you had to go and—”

“We’re supposed to be on vacation,” she said. “They’re … whimsical.”

“Yeah, and I’m full of whimsy.” Kanan put the trunks on underneath his towel, then shucked the towel and continued to dry his hair. When he turned back around, Hera was watching him, her face curious. He wasn’t sure if he liked that look. “What?” he asked.

“Do all humans have so much … ?” She waved a hand up and down her body.

Kanan looked down at himself. Nothing seemed amiss, as far as he could tell. “So much what?”

“Hair?”

Kanan stared at her for a moment, then started laughing.

“What so funny?” Hera asked, flushing even darker.

“Nothing,” Kanan said, shaking his head. “Sometimes I forget how— _young_ you are.”

Hera huffed and crossed her arms.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” Kanan said. He gave a little sigh and smiled at her. “Some humans have more, some have less. The men usually have more.”

Hera made a small hum of acknowledgement, then held up her bag. “I’m gonna change in the fresher.”

While she did that, Kanan looked in the mirror hanging on the wall, finger-combing a number of gigantic knots out of his hair. He didn’t realize Hera was done until she cleared her throat.

“Think I look the part?” she asked.

Kanan’s mouth fell open.

Hera’s bathing suit was modest by most standards—a black one-piece with thick shoulder straps and a square neckline, her flight cap replaced by a bright orange scarf—but it was more skin than Kanan had ever seen her show. Everywhere he looked was smooth, green, perfect—

“Kanan?”

“Hm?”

“Do I look okay?”

He didn’t trust himself to speak. “Mm-hmm,” he said.

Hera cocked her head, her lekku swinging behind her. “You speak Basic?”

“On occasion,” he said hoarsely.

Hera just shook her head at him. “Come on, let’s go see what we can find out.”

 

By the time they were ready to get to the heart of their investigation, night was falling. Dusk lit up the cloudless sky in a haze of oranges and pinks. The effect was only partially obscured by the wisps of smoke rising from the resort’s private beach, where the hotel was hosting a free cookout for its guests.

“Wanna grab some grub and mingle?” Kanan asked Hera as they made their way down to the small crowd gathered around banquet tables laden with food.

“I’m not really hungry,” Hera said, adjusting her scarf with trembling fingers.

“Might be the best way to find our contact,” Kanan pointed out. “She’s bound to be doing undercover work here, since it looks like this is where everyone is. Besides, you need to eat something.”

“Fine,” Hera said, resigned.

Feeling bold, Kanan wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her close. Her skin was cold from the breeze coming off the water. “Can’t let you eat rocks all the time, can I?”

Hera groaned and rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile playing at her lips, and it made Kanan grin.

At the buffet tables, Kanan loaded up his plate with Inner Rim delicacies—meats, cheeses, vegetables, and even a few lumps of neon-pink stuff he couldn’t quite identify. Hera, he noticed, only plopped a spoonful of cut meiloorun on her plate before standing off to the side to wait for him. Kanan bit back a sigh. _Better than nothing._

Kanan joined her in a semi-secluded spot away from the bright lights of the cookout. As he shoveled food into his mouth, he quietly scanned the crowd. “See her yet?” he asked Hera, who was picking at her fruit.

She shook her head. “Nautolans, Quarren, Mirialans, humans— _lots_ of humans—but so far, I’m the only Twi’lek. No wait—there!” Hera put a hand on his elbow and jerked her head to their left.

Sure enough, standing under a tree was a tall, pink-skinned Twi’lek woman. Her expression was pleasant, but her slumped shoulders belied her exhaustion. Cold stabbed through Kanan’s chest. He know that posture: It belonged to people who had something to hide, and whose secrets weighed on them.

Kanan shoved the last of the food in his mouth before muttering, “Let’s go.”

They took a meandering path toward the woman, trying not to look too purposeful in their approach, but Kanan could still feel her wary gaze on them. As they approached her, he slapped on his most winning smile.

“Hello,” he said to her, dipping his head in a sort of bow. “My wife was starting to worry that she might be the only Twi’lek here.”

The woman smiled warmly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s always good to meet a sister on the road.”

Kanan opened his mouth to continue easing his way into the conversation with small talk, but Hera spoke first.

In an undertone, she said, “My name is Hera Syndulla.” The woman’s eyes rounded. “Will you take a walk with me?” Hera added, looping her arm through the woman’s and steering her toward the beach.

Kanan moved to follow, but Hera gave him a look over her shoulder, then twitched t’chun. _Follow, but at a distance._ Kanan nodded, watching them as he gave Hera a good lead.

He strolled along the short about a hundred meters behind them, his hands deep in his swim trunk pockets as he looked up at the sky. Stars were dusted across the expanse like tiny freckles, and they combined with the sound of the dark waters beside him put him in a state closer to meditation than he’d been in years. He took a deep breath of the briny sea air, then looked again at Hera, her head close to the other Twi’lek’s, her lekku swaying as she walked.

 _What would happen_ , he wondered suddenly, _if I touched her?_ If he ran his hands down to the tips of her lekku, if he traced the patterns on them with his fingers, if he did more than give her a quick hug or hand squeeze once every few standards months, if—

If he told her he loved her.

It was an insane thought, the hope of someone more reckless, more open, more _free_ than he could ever afford to be again. And of course, Hera had her Rebellion. In the end, what Kanan felt didn’t matter; if she didn’t want him, then she could never know how he felt. He wouldn’t distract her that way, and he certainly wouldn’t make things so awkward between them that he would lose even her friendship.

He closed his eyes for a breath, feeling the wet sand sliding beneath his feet as he walked. When he opened them again, Hera and the woman had come to the end of the resort’s private beach. The sand continued on, however, and Kanan watched the woman slip away into the darkness. Hera watched her go for a moment before turning back. He waited as she approached, her arms tight around her as she hugged herself.

“Okay?” he asked her as she neared him.

“Let’s just go back to the room,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

 

They took turns rinsing the sand off their feet and changing in the fresher. Kanan let Hera go first. By the time he was done, Hera was perched on the edge of the bed, her right arm hugging her knees close to her chest, her left holding a data card out in front of her. She spun it absentmindedly with her fingers.

“What’s that?” he asked, pulling the tie out of his hair and finger-combing the snarls.

“What we came here for,” she said, not looking at him, a sort of grim satisfaction in the hardened lines of her face.

There was a moment of tense silence, Kanan studying Hera’s profile, Hera studying the contours of the disk. Finally, Kanan cleared his throat and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not right now,” Hera murmured. She unfolded her body to reach over and put the disk on the bedside table. “Mostly I want to sleep.”

Kanan nodded, then began walking toward the recliner in the corner of the room.

“Are you gonna stay up?” Hera asked, watching him.

“I think I’m done for the day, too,” he said, sitting down and feeling around for the controls that would tip the chair into a more horizontal position.

Hera blinked at him before realization dawned on her face. “Kanan.”

“Hm?”

“There’s room in the bed.”

He felt his face heat. “Nah, that’s okay,” he said hastily, still feeling around for those damn controls. Where did they hide those things these days?

Hera sighed, rolling her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal. Plus, it’ll be more comfortable for you.”

“I’ve slept in _way_ worse places,” he said, giving up on the controls and sitting up to look at her. As soon as he did, he wished he hadn’t. Her face was shadowed in the room’s dim lights, but the fact that Kanan knew her features by heart in spite of that made him swallow. Her head was ringed in a soft halo of orange; she hadn’t taken off her scarf from earlier. And though he’d seen her in her pajamas often enough during early mornings on the _Ghost_ , there was something different about her being dressed for bed in an actual _bedroom_. And it wasn’t like she was wearing anything skimpy, either; that just wasn’t Hera. A long-sleeved tunic, soft pants that were a bit too large for her—this, Kanan had learned, was Hera at her most vulnerable. And it made his heart shoot into his throat.

Before sensation could divert itself to any other parts of his body and embarrass him, Hera spoke, shrugging her thin shoulders. “It’s your choice.”

It was and it wasn’t. Kanan knew by now that Hera had a preternatural talent for seeing through bullshit, especially his. Hera could have taken one glance and his face and known exactly what was going through his head; and yet, still she asked.

Kanan licked his lips. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, giving him a small smile, before moving to the far side of the bed and getting under the covers. Kanan did likewise on his side of the bed as Hera shut off the light.

“Good night, Kanan,” she said quietly.

“Good night.” He lay stiff as a board, as far away from Hera as he could be without falling off the bed, his heart pounding in his chest so loudly he figured she could probably hear it. But just as soon as he could wonder whether his nerves would keep him up all night, exhaustion pulled him under.

 

He woke with a start. He sat bolt upright in bed, instinctively throwing his awareness out into the Force, searching for danger. It didn’t take him long to realize that a real threat hadn’t woken him, but Hera tossing and turning. She must have kicked him hard in her sleep.

“Hera?” he whispered.

She didn’t wake, only thrashed harder, murmuring words that he only barely recognized as Ryl. He put a hand on her shoulder, calling her name again softly to no avail. He hesitated only a moment before wrapping his arm around her, lying back down, and pulling her close to him, her back against his chest. At a loss for what else to do, he pressed his face to the top of her head and hummed a half-forgotten tune from some faraway childhood he didn’t remember. Little by little, Hera stopped moving, the tension flowing out of her body as he held her.

 

When he next woke, it was light, and Hera was nowhere to be found. Kanan rolled his aching shoulder joint—probably stiff from Hera lying on it all night. At least, he hoped that was the cause. Kanan sighed and pulled his fingers through his messy bedhead. No good thinking along those lines; better to just find Hera and get off this rock.

He dressed, threw their meager possessions in the shopping bags Hera had gotten yesterday, and went down to the lobby to check out. On his way out the door, he grabbed two cups of caf from the lobby dispenser. He had a feeling Hera would need some.

He found her sitting on the beach, already dressed in her flightsuit. She looked over at him as he settled down next to her and handed her a cup.

“What’s this?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Spiran caf,” Kanan said. “I hear it’s a Rion specialty.”

Hera breathed the steam deeply before taking a sip. As she did, the tips of her lekku perked up. “This is delicious,” she said. “Thank you.”

Kanan nodded, taking a sip from his own cup.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun rise higher over the ocean and making the surface of the water glitter.

“Hera,” Kanan finally said, “about yesterday…”

Hera shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said without looking at him.

“No, you’re not.”

Hera gave him a sharp look, then she softened. “I’m not,” she agreed. She smoothed a hand over t’chin before continuing. “It was hard, seeing how much strain Alema was under. It made me think about how much I’m willing to sacrifice for this rebellion. Not that I haven’t thought about it before—losing people, dying myself, that all kind of comes with the territory. But giving up my dignity like that…” She shook her head again. “That, I hadn’t thought about.”

Dignity.

Kanan thought back to digging through trash, to the pain of split knuckles, to the burn of alcohol hitting the back of his throat. To self-loathing in the darkness, to struggling on toward the dawn of the next day, and for what?

“It won’t ever come to that,” he said.

Hera snorted. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I won’t let it,” he said simply.

Hera drew her brows together, her lekku stiff.  “I don’t need you to—”

“I know,” Kanan said, holding up his hands between them. “I know. That’s not what I meant. I meant—we’re a team. And we work pretty well together, I think. I’d never leave you in that kind of situation, same as you’d do for me.”

Hera frowned a little, then scoffed. “And to think, when I first brought you on, you just wanted to be crew.”

“Sometimes I’m kind of an idiot.”

“Sometimes?”

Kanan laughed and, feeling bold, threw his arms around her shoulders and pulled her closer. To his shock, she rested her cheek against his shoulder, her lekku falling heavily across his back.

“You have me,” he said more softly, his voice a bit strangled.

“I have you,” she agreed.

They sat like that until the sun was high in the sky, enjoying the salt breeze until it was time for them both to move on.

**Author's Note:**

> I love Star Wars, but this is my first time writing for the fandom. I hope you enjoyed anyway!
> 
> I also run a Star Wars podcast, so tune in to [Book Wars Pod](www.bookwarspod.com) and talk nerdy to me and my cohosts on [Twitter](twitter.com/bookwarspod).


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